


Journey Across Middle-Earth

by Warwick



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warwick/pseuds/Warwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Gandalf and the arrival of the fellowship in Lorien, the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn welcome the weary travelers and give them advice to rest and plan their course. The loss of the Grey Wizard hangs heavily over them all, but the mission must indeed go on, if there is to be a chance of success. The Lord and Lady of Lothlorien decide to assist the Fellowship by adding to their numbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To begin in the middle

Long after the fellowship was in their beds and asleep in peace for the first time since they set out from Rivendell, the Lord and Lady of Lorien kept council over what was to be done for those members of the Fellowship that remained. Long they had pondered the matter of the ring and the course that should be followed for its destruction, but the fall of the Grey Wizard revealed an unexpected void in the Company, a void they felt should be filled before their guests set out once more on their mission. The existence of a counselor and protector for the members they judged to be of paramount importance and whom to trust with the mission and the burden became a point of revived debate between the two wise. They did not have to ponder for long, for the solution appeared before their eyes as unexpectedly and as inevitably as it was her wont.  
The youngest of the children of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn was a daughter whose existence remained unknown to most. She was in appearance as fair as any of the Elves but no fairer than most, and she had the silver hair of her parents, her eyes of so deep a blue as to appear purple. She was far removed from the age of her siblings and the only one to remain constantly by the side of her progenitors, who found in her a scholar of the lore and arts of the Elves, and a young Elf so gifted in powers, as to be unable to part with her, from need, and longing, and perhaps even fear. This child of theirs spoke little, but was always true; and so when she appeared before them, grave and wise beyond her years, to request that she be allowed to join the Fellowship, they hesitated, but agreed. If one were close to Gandalf that was their daughter, who would know how to care for others and herself.  
And so when that day came that the Fellowship had to leave Lorien, they gathered the companions and gifted them each with an important gift, while for last they kept the gift that was closest to their hearts and the one they gave away feely but with a heavy spirit. Before the companions appeared a young Elf, dressed in black and grey travelling clothes, which would have belonged to a man had they not been worn by a woman. She had a bow and a quiver strapped to her back, as well as two long, silver blades with white pommels. Her hair was drawn back in the manner of the elven warriors, and a leaf of Lorien held her cloak fast around her throat. She spoke to them in a low, deep voice in the manner of one unaccustomed to speech.  
“I place myself in the protection of the Fellowship. I am Meera, daughter of the Lord and the Lady of Lorien, and I would share in your quest, if you would have me.”  
It was phrased as a request, but the manner of the speech left no doubt as to what the answer should be. The Lord and the Lady were giving their daughter to the Fellowship; they could not refuse without giving offense, and they could trust the reasons of Galadriel and Celeborn, for they have proven to be friends. And so, when the Fellowship set out once more, this time from Lorien, it was with the Lady Meera as a companion, an addition that was not welcomed by all. But the Lady Meera was quiet and unobtrusive; she spoke little during the first hours of their voyage, and only answered, never asked. She was sailing in the same boat as Legolas and Gimli, who was inclined to like her well enough as the daughter of the Lady Galadriel. Legolas, if himself not quite at ease with this new addition to their company, kept it very well hidden indeed, and rowed their little boat in silence.  
The night fell during that first night of their voyage, and Aragorn found a place for them to stop and rest. Sitting around the fire, eating their modest dinner and looking at the wary faces of their companions, the hobbits Merry and Pippin could think of little else other than Meera. To their eyes she looked a creature beautiful but laden with mystery, as indeed she was, and they could not help but try to unravel that one riddle that was their new elven friend.  
“And did you know Gandalf?” asked Pippin finally.  
She looked at him for one long moment before answering, her voice calm and so low as to be almost drowned out by the sounds of the fire.  
“Gandalf was my teacher.” she said simply, and turned to look at Aragorn for the first time since they set out.  
“I would know how he fell, Aragorn.” she added.  
She spoke the name with familiarity and ease, and Aragorn obliged her by recounting briefly the events that occurred in Moria. After a small silence, she said slowly  
“The shadows hold many secrets, not only death. Mithrandir was wise, and his actions never idle. I do not mourn him.”  
“How do you think a Balrog of Morgoth found its way into Moria?” asked Aragorn.  
“There are many dangerous things in the deepest places of the Earth. The Balrog was there long before the dwarves.” she said again in her low voice, leaving them no more knowledgeable than before, but Aragorn did not seem to mind. He even smiled a little at her words, as if expecting the evasiveness of her speech.  
After sitting a little longer around the fire in silence, Aragorn stood up and said  
“Get some sleep. I will keep the first watch. We begin at dawn.”  
The gathering dispersed after that. Gimli spread his blankets between the roots of the large oak under which they were sitting, and the hobbits laid down around the fire. Legolas and Aragorn withdrew a little from the circle of light and sat on a large rock at the edge of the river. The Lady Meera did not show any signs of having noticed the changes around her, but sat very still before the fire, so close in fact that the light of the logs reflected on her eyes and turned them into pools of purple and her hair into gold. The fire had burned down to embers and the shadows of the trees had become deep and impenetrable when she moved again; she stood up and approached Aragorn and Legolas, who were sitting still and silent on the rock.  
“There is a shadow ahead of us, hiding among the trees; it is looking for us and it will find us.”  
“I have been feeling it as well.” said Legolas “We should not have lingered.”  
“The hobbits need to rest, friends. And the road before us is long and dangerous. Will you not rest, too?”  
A small smile shaped the lips of the Lady Meera.  
“You need sleep more than we do, Elessar. I will keep watch until dawn.”  
Aragorn took the Elf’s advice and laid down beside Gimli to sleep away the rest of the night. Legolas stood upon the stone and looked into the night for a while before turning to look at Meera.  
“The shadow is closing in.” he said.  
“Sauron is getting stronger” she said as an answer “And the power of the Elves is not as it once was.”  
“You see?” he asked.  
“I do; but it is of little use. The will of the evil is strong and it makes it hard to know for certain.”  
“I wonder that the Lord and the Lady could spare you at such a time, if at all, Lady Meera. “  
“The Lord and the Lady are far too wise not to see that I will be of much more use to you than to them at such a time. This is my choice, too.”  
Legolas turned his eyes towards the sky once more, and it was some minutes before he broke the silence.  
“When Mithrandir came to Greenwood, he spoke of you to King Thranduil. He said you were as wise as the Lord Celeborn, and would soon grow more powerful than the Lady Galadriel ever was. He advised that we trust you and honor you.”  
“Was the King Threanduil impressed?” she asked in a satirical voice that was much in contrast to her quiet, mellow tones.  
“King Thranduil trusts Mithrandir.”  
“Thranduil trusts no-one. But he is not a fool, for all that.”  
She looked at Legolas for a long moment before she fixed her eyes into the darkness of the night.  
“Go to sleep, Legolas Thranduilion. Tonight I keep the watch.”  
Legolas inclined his head and set his hand on his heart, the Prince of Greenwood bidding goodnight to the Princess of Lorien. The gesture would have been incongruous, but the Elves could not have seemed more at home among the ancient green trees and beside the old river Anduin flowing forever past them and on to the sea.


	2. The Gap

The chase for Merry and Pipin took the company of four far into the Gap of Rohan and very near enemy territory. The Elves saw the route of the Orcs clearly before them; they were taking their friends to Isengard. On and on they pressed, running up and down the steep hills of the Gap, following the tracks of the Orcs, no sleep, no food and almost no hope to ease their struggle forward.  
During their third day on the road, the four met with success in their mission, at last. Or so they would have thought, had they but known it. A group of riders from Rohan had met the Orcs while they rested, and they had slaughtered them all, making a bonfire of their carcasses.   
“A red sun is rising. Blood has been shed tonight.” said Legolas, and, not long after, Eomer and his riders found them. The nephew of the king was young but brave, a clever leader and a skilled warrior. He was no longer serving the King, he told them, for he was banished from Rohan. The shadow has taken the King, and he no longer knew friend from foe. Eomer felt the times were troubled and he was wary even of travelers.  
'Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?' he asked of the four.  
'I am called Strider,' answered Aragorn. 'I came out of the North. I am hunting Orcs.'  
'At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs,' he said; 'but now I see that it is not so. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider. That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?'  
'No,' said Aragorn. 'Only two of us are Elves. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us.'  
'Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell! Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.'   
Suddenly, he turned the eyes that were so insistently fixed on Aragorn on the Elves and the dwarf, and spoke to them with hostility and suspicion.  
'Why do you not speak, silent ones?'   
'Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides,' answered Gimli, always fast to take offence and to plunge into brawls and fights.  
'As for that, the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.'   
'Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you.'  
'I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground ' said Eomer.  
'He stands not alone,' said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. 'You would die before your stroke fell.'  
“No-one need die.” interrupted Meera, stepping between Legolas and Eomer, who had dismounted and unsheathed his sword. Her voice remained calm and was not raised above its ordinary sweet staccato. She was looking Eomer in the eyes, and he, who had not glanced her way ever since he first saw them, had his eyes now fixed upon her face. The dark blue eyes of the Elf were compelling him to listen and to obey.  
“My name, Lord Marshal, is Meera, daughter of Celeborn, and I am of Lorien. We mean you no harm; we search for friends. Two Halflings, young ones smaller than a dwarf; they would look like children to your eyes. They are dressed with the colors of Lothlorien and carry the grace of the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Tell us, Lord Marshal.”  
The Lord Marshal Eomer stood transfixed. The Elf was pretty, but there was more. He felt a power rising within him, one that compelled him to answer, one that made him stare at her in wonder and in awe.   
“Tell us, Eomer.” she said again.  
“The Orcs you were hunting are destroyed. We piled and burned their carcasses. No-one was spared. We saw no Halflings. Look for your friends, lady, but do not trust to hope.” he said.  
Meera did not flinch at the news. “How far away, Lord Marshal?” she asked him and again his answer was quick and true, as all the answers demanded from the lady Meera were wont to be.  
“We need horses, Lord Marshal, for we are tired.” she said at last. And horses they were given, great beasts from the Mark, strong and fast. Gimli, refusing to do anything so unnatural as riding, condescended to continue the journey sitting behind Legolas. Before they left they were given a welcome to Rohan and directions to where the Orcs were to be found. Eomer bowed to Meera, and the journey was resumed.  
The pile of Orcs was found not long after. The four searched through the bodies for any sign of their friends. Not a clue was to be find among the dead. Hope was not yet lost; but where could they have possibly gone?  
“Tracks!” exclaimed Aragorn “They lead away from the field of battle. They crawled….”  
He was looking intently at the ground, seeing things unseen by most eyes.   
“The bindings that held their hands were cut.” He said again, and help up two pieces of rope for their inspection. He tracked them to the edge of the forest.  
“Fangorn.” said Legolas, and there was awe and wonder in his eyes.  
“What are we waiting for?” exclaimed Gimli, frustrated to see his friends had apparently grown routs as well “Do we track them or not?”  
“In all my years as Ranger, never once have I entered the Forest of Fangorn. I do not know the way through the trees.”  
“The trees will tell us the way.” said Legolas.   
“The trees?” asked Gimli, now clearly outraged.  
“A long time ago, the Elves woke up the trees and taught them how to speak. I can hear them now, whispering to each other. Do not fear the trees, Aragorn; they do not harm those who do not seek to harm them. It is only ill-will they do not suffer among them.”  
Aragorn seemed thoughtful; not long after, however, he appeared to have reached a decision.  
“We follow them.”  
‘There is a power in the Forest unknown to me.” said Meera suddenly, turning her eyes toward Legolas.  
“A power that does not belong to the Forest.”  
“Saruman?” asked Legolas.  
“This power is neither good nor bad. And I have never met the White Wizard, so I cannot tell with certainty.” she answered.  
“We press on, anyway.” Declared Aragorn, and they all moved forward into the forest, wary but determined.   
“Lower your axe, Gimli.” whispered Aragorn. “We do not want to provoke the trees.”  
The disbelief at the words of his friend was shown clearly in the wide eyes of the dwarf and his snort of derision, but Gimli lowered his axe and behaved. One never knew when the Elves might be right.


End file.
